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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967349">Honey Glazed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/itspixiesthings/pseuds/itspixiesthings'>itspixiesthings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alastor eats you, Cannibalism, Captivity, Capture, Drowning, Gen, Horror, Macro/Micro, Shrinking, Violence, Vore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:27:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/itspixiesthings/pseuds/itspixiesthings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You awaken to find yourself in a kitchen. And not just any kitchen... in Alastor's kitchen. And you're not a dinner guest. You're an ingredient.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Honey Glazed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fic for a friend!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been five days since you had found yourself a captive in this place. All around you were the curved, translucent walls of a glass enclosement, which as you peered at the structure more and more, had quickly revealed itself to be a large jar. The kind you would find filled with jams, preserves, or pickled vegetables. It was so large that standing on your tiptoes you could only reach up to about half of its height, gazing up at the tin lid that was screwed on tight, with little holes poked in the top letting in a modicum of air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or was it large, truly? Had you, instead, been shrunk? It was hard to say. Both possibilities made you shudder with discomfort. Whether you had been captured by a giant, or by a being of enough power to change you, shrink you down and hold you captive, made little difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking out past the confines of the glass walls did little to still your anxiety. The jar was clearly on a countertop of some kind, made of marble, the swirls of grey and white forming a beautiful floor upon which various items were kept. Items like an enormous cutting board, and a wickedly sharp looking knife. A bowl of fruits that were each larger than your entire body. A tall, thin green bottle emblazoned with the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>'EXTRA VIRGIN OLIVE OIL'</span>
  </em>
  <span> across the label.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, this was clearly a kitchen. And that certainly hadn't boded well for you. That first day you had awoken inside of the jar, staring out at the kitchen appliances, you were sure that you were done for. Especially when the door had creaked open, and your attention had been turned immediately to the source of the footsteps echoing across the hard flooring. In had strode a man who at first, you'd had trouble recognizing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so large that your mind had had trouble rationalizing him. He was a giant, his body towering all the way into the sky above you. Your own body was only around the size of one of his fingers, and when he spoke his voice was so loud and so booming that it knocked you on your ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Ah, I see you are awake, my sweet little thing. How did you sleep?” You stumbled and fell painfully against the jar's curved base, trembling as you stared up at him. He was smiling a smile that was unsettling, too large for his face, far far too many teeth showing, sharp and intimidating. Suddenly you had experienced a flash of memories; the night before. You'd met a charming gentleman in a fine red suit at the jazz lounge. He'd had hair such a vibrant shade of red it almost perfectly matched the suit. A monocle's string dangled from his left eye. He looked much the same now... except for the fact that his eyes were both completely blood red, and his skin was a more sickly pallor of grey. He had black antlers coming out of his head, emerging from the fluff or red hair. His yellowed teeth gleamed menacingly, and his fingertips ended in sharp-looking claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallowed. It was Alastor. Some inhuman, demonic rendition of the attractive, charming gentleman you had met prior, but it was Alastor. And he looked downright menacing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Speechless? Well, that's alright, my dear. I'm just here to feed you your breakfast!” His voice had the cadence of a radio announcer, upbeat and energetic. He moved through the room with loud steps that seemed to make the counter shake. You found your breath and got to your feet, terror gripping you as you tried to make sense of everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>What did you do to me? What has happened? Why am I here? What is this place?” Your voice sounded weaker than you'd wanted it to; small, rasping, trembling as the questions tumbled out of you in a flood. You were shaking as you watched his iris slide to the corner of his eye to look at you over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Tut tut, none of that is anything you need to worry your pretty little head about. Just be good for me and hang tight. I'll have some food prepared for you momentarily!” He smiled as he spoke, his voice still so friendly and jovial. “Now let's see...” There was a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>THUMP</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he set down a giant book on a pedestal near your jar, his fingers flipping deftly through the pages. “Aha! Here we are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt a spasm of dread clench in your chest, your heart sinking into your stomach as you looked at the text at the top of the page.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'On the Proper Diet for the Enhancement of Human Meat.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingertip slid breezily down the page until he found a few suggested items that pleased him, humming to himself with a smile, scarcely even looking your way. You watched him with a growing sense of horror as he prepared a meal of caramelized figs and honey, cutting up a minuscule portion and sprinkling it with some sort of nut crumble. All the ingredients were on the page right in front of you, recommended as food that would make the human's meat more tender and succulent, sweetening them from within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set the serving in what looked in his hands like a toy bowl for a child's dollhouse, and then you felt the jar shudder. You fell again, crying out in alarm as your arm went out to break your fall against the glass, the light dimming as his hand wrapped around the rounded walls and his other unscrewed the lid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowered the food into your little containment area. You shook your head, your heart beating a million times a minute. “I won't eat that!” You protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, screwing the lid back on again, leaving the admittedly delicious smelling food with you. “Suit yourself. You'll be hungry enough in no time, I'm sure. Just enjoy my hospitality! It's quite delicious, you know.” He grinned, and made a show of licking some of the warm honey from his fingertips and giving you a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since that day, he'd returned three times a day to prepare you a range of similarly sweet meals. All of them high in butter, cream, sugars and fats. Fruit cobbler for lunch. Foie gras for dinner. All of them recommended across the pages of the book left out right near you for you to read, over and over and over again, obsessively, on how he could fatten your body and sweeten your meat. And each time, you swore you wouldn't eat it, but the insistent grumbling in your stomach combined with the delicious smells that always wafted from his expertly prepared meals always got the better of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then one night he slipped up. When he bid you goodnight after serving you dinner, he didn’t screw the lid on as tight as usual. He'd gotten sloppy. You could hardly believe it. You paced around wondering how to take advantage of this fact. You knew you couldn't wait much longer. Like a proclamation for a death sentence, the book recommended a week's worth of its diet before the human subject should be eaten.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Either fresh, or cooked to taste.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the fifth day. You had a few more days to live, unless you could get out of here. You stood up, going to the edge of your little enclosed world. You pressed your hands on the glass, and faced towards the cookbook and the wall. Then you started to push.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You threw your shoulder into the glass jar, hurling your full body’s weight against it in a desperate attempt to knock it over. You silently pleaded with the jar, willing it to be moved. Willing your weight to be enough to knock it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took several attempts, and your shoulders were soon both sore. But the jar rocked with every crashing ram against its side, until finally, with a sickening lurch in your stomach, it toppled over onto its side. The food Alastor had prepared went flying, spilling everywhere, but you couldn't care about that as the jar started to roll across the counter. You desperately tried to steady it, tried to keep it from rolling off the counter and to the ground, knowing that such a drop would surely kill you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Come on, come on!” You pleaded with the structure as you put your hands out, trying to brace yourself and push your feet against it in the opposite direction as its roll. Miraculously, it finally worked. The jar rolled to a halt. You breathed a sigh of relief before carefully crawling up to the lid. You had to get it off. You gritted your teeth and began to push at it. It was loose, as you'd thought. Not on all the way. You gave it a few kicks, sharp and hard, swinging yourself against it until finally... with a pop, it fell away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, free from the jar. Getting free from the kitchen would be a whole other journey. You took a deep breath, straightened your back, and decided to get to it. The next thing you needed to do was to find a way down from the kitchen counter. And that was easier said than done. Your stomach felt like it was doing flip flops as you forced yourself to take a peek over the edge. It looked like miles down at your size. You wrapped your arms around yourself, contemplating the distance as you looked back at what was available to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked to your left to see a giant stove top with large circular coils. Just below that, tucked into the handle, was a dish towel. It didn't reach anywhere close to the ground, and it was rather nerve wracking to even think about walking over that stove top, even if the burners weren't turned on. But there wasn't any other path evident anywhere... you knew you would have to find a way to get down from there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But how?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You happened to glance again at the monstrous cookbook, still left open to that ghastly page. On the page directly beside the one detailing the feeding and cooking of human meat, was a more mundane kind of recipe: Turkey. You paused, frowning as you walked up to the book, peering at it in contemplation. A small detail leapt out at you: instructions to tie up the bird with a length of twine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>String! Maybe that was something that Alastor kept in his kitchen, for bigger animals than yourself. Of course, it was truly bizarre to realize that a chicken or a turkey was now quite a bit bigger than you. But if you could just get some of that string, you might be able to climb down from here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around, you noticed that the cutlery drawer was slightly open. Just a crack, but maybe it would be enough to slip inside of it. Maybe... maybe it would contain what you were after. If not, you realized you would have to take your chances with the dish towel. You straightened your shoulders and moved towards it, carefully easing yourself through the crack. You struggled to get your hands on the drawer, and pushed out with all of your might until finally, it slid a little more open, just enough for the rest of you to slip through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let out a huff of breath as you fell to the floor of the drawer. A few cutlery items clinked as you tumbled into them. It was dark inside of the drawer, and you didn't know if you'd be able to find much. Your heart was pounding; you knew that you had to move quickly and locate what you needed before your time was up and Alastor returned. You crawled through the darkness carefully on your hands and knees, reaching around, feeling the large implements around you. Gradually your eyes adjusted to the dim light and you could make out shapes. It felt like you'd been in here for forever, just crawling your way through a forest of forks and butter knives and measuring cups until finally you saw it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>String. String for tying up a roast. You felt a rush of excitement. This string would be your ticket out of here! You reached forward to grasp it, wrapping your hands around it, feeling the rough texture on your palms, when suddenly your heart was sent to dropping all the way into your stomach again, and your skin felt like it had been dunked into ice water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Alastor couldn't be back already! Your heart was racing as you scooted towards the back of the drawer, still clutching the twine like a lifeline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Good morning!” His too-cheery voice echoed through the room and seemed to reverberate through the drawer. “Time for some delicious breakfast! Oh!” The footsteps stopped, and you could see a shadow fall over the crack in the drawer that had been letting in light. He was right there. Standing right in front of the counter. You swallowed a lump of anxiety in your throat as you heard the sound of the jar being picked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Now where did you run off to, you naughty little thiiiing~?” You could hear noises, clattering, rustling. He was looking for you. It took everything in you not to scream in terror, not to whimper and cry. As it was, you were amazed he couldn't hear the sound of your breathing, or the loud drumbeat of your heart racing a mile a minute. You curled up into a ball, as if you could avoid detection by making yourself as small as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing you could do. Not a damn thing, except to wait here in the agonizing minutes as they crept by, the sounds of him looking around corners, moving things out of the way, picking up jars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Where aaaaare yooouuuuu?~”</span>
  </em>
  <span> His sing-song voice was pure terror to your senses, the chipper and upbeat lilt of it, the way he sounded not at all upset but rather amused and excited. He was toying with you. You bit your lip so hard you were amazed that you didn't break the skin. Maybe he would miss you. Maybe you would be safe...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fingers slipped through the crack in the drawer. Your breathing stopped. Slowly, the drawer was pulled out. Light flooded in, hurting your eyes. “There you are, darling.” You looked up, and felt like your body would disintegrate in sheer terror. Alastor was looking down at you with his usual enormous grin, but this time the room seemed darker around him, his eyes were glowing, his antlers had grown much longer, sharper, with more prongs, and his teeth... his claws... everything was sharp, sharp, so very </span>
  <em>
    <span>sharp</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You could swear that you heard the sound of knives sharpening, cutting, slashing, grating at the back of your mind, you could swear that you could smell the stink of blood and copper, oozing out of his lips and over his wicked, long teeth just reaching for you to cut, to tear, to maim...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All at once he was back to his usual appearance, and he reached his hand around you to gingerly pluck you from the drawer. “Now how did you manage to trap yourself in there, hmmmmm?” He chided you, patting you on the top of your head with one finger. Had you imagined it all? The light was on in the room, no more darkness, no more smell of blood, no more glowing eyes. And yet you were still shivering in a cold sweat as he gently set you back down in the jar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>That must have been quite terrible for you, you poor dear. Lots of things to get hurt on in there. Not safe for a little thing like yourself. No worries! I'll make you a dish that will get your mind off of all that unpleasantness, just you wait.” He spoke almost kindly to you, as though he was truly fond of you. He sounded sincere. And yet that cookbook loomed behind you and made you feel sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Please... please let me go...” You felt tears in your eyes as you watched him work. He didn't respond, instead keeping himself busy making another sweet, creamy meal for you to eat. You could feel your body shaking as he fed you, again, and then left the kitchen, gone until the next time he saw fit to return and feed you more fattening sweets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fight went out of you that morning. It was getting harder to think about escape, harder to even think about fear or terror as the long days stretched out. Alastor's visits and the food he made were the only break up in the monotony of the day, and the lack of activity or exercise had begun to make you sluggish. For the last few days you didn't even bother getting to your feet when he returned, instead lounging as comfortably as you could manage in the jar, sleepily reaching up to take the tiny bowls and plates from him as he lowered them into the jar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He even congratulated you on your good behaviour, and the praise made you smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the fear returned in a rush on the final day. You knew things were different, because he picked up the book set open beside your jar, and flipped the page over. With a sinking feeling you forced yourself to look, reading the heading at the very top.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'ACCOMPANYING SAUCES FOR HUMAN MEAT'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallowed, your body going cold as ice, a chill resting deep in your chest as you watched him. “Ahhh, this should be perfect!” He beamed, his finger moving along the text, and then he selected his ingredients. This time there was no tiny, toy-sized dishware in sight. You watched in fascinated horror as he hummed to himself, pouring a dash of this and a pinch of that into a saucepan. You could feel the heat from the stove top from where you were, like a cozy fireplace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Please don't eat me...” You managed to squeak out, but your voice didn’t sound anywhere near as forceful or convincing as you wanted it to. In your heart you knew you had already given up all hope. Youshook as you watched him, unable to take your eyes off of the assemblage of your demise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Now why ever not?” He grinned, shooting you a brief wink. “You're going to be utterly delectable! Oh, I am so very looking forward to how you'll taste, the sweetness of your flesh, the way you'll feel on my tongue... sliding down my throat...” As he spoke it felt like the room once again became darker, gradually, bit by bit, a suffocating atmosphere as his eyes glowed brightly and his smile turned crueller and crueller, but his voice remained so very pleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sent you into a panic. You hadn't thought you were still capable of panic with all the lethargy that had crept into your bones, but suddenly you couldn't bear it, bear his terrifying gaze and the descriptions of yourself being eaten. You rose shakily to your feet for the first time in days and pounded your fists uselessly on the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignored you entirely, after chuckling to himself. You watched him stir the thick, hot sauce in the pan, a mixture of honey and garlic, spices and butter. So that was to be your fate... to be honey glazed before being swallowed alive. You screamed, just for the chance to do something, to feel something, knowing it would get you nowhere. You had had one chance at escape. You had failed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, as you became certain that you could stand it no longer, the sauce bubbling away in the pan, he turned to pour it into a little ceramic bowl. Then he turned his full gaze on you, a wicked glow in his eyes, as he picked up both the bowl and the jar you resided in, and began to walk. You cried out in fright as you watched him carry you to the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat down, and set the bowl and the jar on the table. There was what looked like a plate with salad sitting nearby. A side dish, you realized, as your stomach gave a sickened lurch. You pleaded with him, raising your voice as loud as you could, even as he tilted the jar and began to shake you onto his plate. You fell, sliding down the glass and tumbling onto the porcelain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Please! Don't do this...” You begged, even as you scooted backwards on your hands and knees, as if you could get away from his giant hands. He stopped you with one hand, while the other pressed one finger to his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shussshh...”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He chided you with a smirk. “You've been so well behaved for me these last few days, darling; don't you ruin it all now... I would hate so much to have to punish you.” You wondered with a gulp how he could possibly 'punish' you in any way that would be worse than what he was about to do, but as he picked up a knife and held it menacingly against your belly, you realized that there was plenty he could do. You tried to push it away in terror, squirming as he picked you up in his fingers and lifted you into the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>No, don't! Please! Don't hurt me don't hurt me oh god, oh god oh god...” You felt tears sliding down your face, your eyes hot and stinging as you tried to hold back from sobbing and failed. This was it. He set the knife down and you breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe... maybe it wouldn't hurt... if he swallowed you whole, maybe it wouldn't hurt, wouldn't be so bad...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then all at once you were reminded of the hot, still bubbling sauce in the bowl and your body began to tremble all over again. “Good, good little pet...” He soothed, stroking your head with one hand as the other moved you over the bowl. You knew what he was going to do. You screamed, kicking your legs in the air in desperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>No, no, no!!” You felt the air rush out of your lungs as he held you there, and rested his chin on his hand, tilting to watch you. He was enjoying this, you realized in anger and fear. Enjoying watching you struggle, squirm, and cry. He was playing with you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Oh, sweet thing, you really do look so lovely like this!” He exclaimed, a look of affection on his face as you dangled there above the bowl. “I can't wait to hear your screams.” His eyes narrowed and his smile widened as he slowly lowered you down. He was going to dip you in that boiling hot honey sauce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air rushed around you. You screamed on the way down, wordless pleas still leaving your throat as you felt the drop, your stomach turning. Then you were submerged. You didn't feel it, not at first, not right away. It was as though your mind needed to catch up. At first all you felt was a strange, thick stickiness. And then...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So much burning, </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible </span>
  </em>
  <span>pain! He held you under as you screamed, and hot honey flooded your mouth, it was on your skin, in your throat, choking you, burning you. You struggled, your body desperate and violent in your attempts to get out, get out, </span>
  <em>
    <span>get out!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn't breathe. It was in your lungs, scalding your scalp, melting your skin. You pressed down with your hands at the bottom of the bowl as though you could push yourself up and out, but his fingers were heavy on your back, until finally he pulled you up and out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were crying, coughing, writhing in agony as he peered down at you, still dangling helplessly in the air. “Ohhh, you took that so wellllll...~” He said with his sing-song voice. You could barely even think of anything, words refused to form in your mind let alone on your lips, as you tried in vain to get the burning ooze off of yourself, to cough it out of your lungs, to breathe. It was dripping from your feet. You were encased in nothing but sheer pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Hmmm, I think I missed a bit.” He said, smiling, and then you were down again, re-submerged into it and another fresh wash of agony slid over you. It was so much pain your brain couldn't process it, couldn't handle it. You were going into shock. You felt warm. Your lungs fought to breathe while you fought to keep your lips closed to avoid them trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You couldn't count how many times he dunked you, purely for his own amusement, as he watched. You were just a toy to him, just food he could play with. You were barely moving by the time he was done, your body burned and exhausted, all the life gone out of you. You could hardly see anything through the sauce stuck to your eyelids. Your vision was going dark and all you could see was the glowing red light of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted your dripping form to his lips. Was this it? Was he finally going to end it all? Was he finally going to eat you? Part of you hoped he would, that at least the nightmare would be ended. Instead of dropping you into his mouth however, he pursed his lips together, and you felt a rush of cool air as he blew on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tried to move, to feebly kick your legs again, to swing your arms, but the sauce was hardening. You were encased in it as it cooled, forming a glaze. A hard, sticky shell. You couldn't even open your mouth to scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Ahhh, that's better. Too hot and you'd burn my mouth.” He remarked, his eyes shining. You wanted to beg more, to cry and sob, but there was no energy left in you. No life. Your body couldn't move. You were nothing but the vague experience of pain and heat and terror that had all become so much that your mind was shutting down. You could make out the outline of his antlers in red in the darkness of your vision as he slowly tilted his head back, slid his mouth open, and held you above it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tongue reached out for you before anything else. You could just barely see it, and then you could feel it as it touched you, licking a stripe of sauce off of your body. He made a sound of enjoyment in the back of his throat, pleased to no end by the taste, as he lowered you down onto it entirely. For a few seconds, you were sitting on it, on his long tongue as he used it to pull you into the cavern of his mouth. You cried out, but no sound came from your lips, blocked by the honey down your throat as you were truly submerged in darkness. You were drawn into the warm, wetness of his mouth as his lips closed, and you could see nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a strange sensation, his tongue on your body, exploring your flesh. It felt strangely good, strangely inviting in some hideously abstract way. To be caressed like that, held and touched so intimately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the walls of the cavern enclosed tight around you. Your whole body, sucked on, the crushing weight and pressure of his mouth suctioning around you. You tried to fight, to squirm, but your feet were already at the back of his throat. You could feel a rumbling, a vibration all around you as he moaned in pleasure at the taste. The taste of the sauce, and the taste, you realized hazily, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his time. He didn't swallow right away, like he was savouring and enjoying you. You tried to gasp for air to no avail as his tongue moved you around, turning you this way and then that. Alarm bells rang in your mind as fear gripped your body, and then, more pain lanced through you and you screamed. Impossible... you hadn't thought that you could still muster up the breath for it, but as his teeth ground through your arm you felt your body convulsing on its own, natural impulse reactions as your arm was torn from it's socket as his teeth gnawed on it. You felt that vibration again all around you as he savoured the taste of blood and meat. You were powerless to do anything but exist in that state of helpless agony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few more bites, these ones gentler in comparison, like he was just tenderizing the meat of your body instead of tearing and rending. Then he seemed content to simply suck the juices from you, from your poor burned, drowned, mangled body. The blood mixed with the sauce and the saliva coating the inside of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it happened. You felt yourself sliding deeper. Your legs were going down, down, down. Still encased in warm flesh, tight around your body. Then your hips. Your torso. You were being swallowed. Oh, god, you were being swallowed alive... You could hardly comprehend the experience, even though you'd known it was coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were sinking. Your brain was getting fuzzier and fuzzier with every second that passed. Soon you couldn't think of much except for the tightness, the suffocating moisture in the air and the feeling of falling, moving downwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon you couldn't even think of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing to think of, anymore. You were warm. You were secure. You were safe. There was no pain, not anymore, no fear. What was fear? You were simply there...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then all at once, you weren't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything ended.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come follow me on twitter! https://twitter.com/FirstOrderPixie</p></blockquote></div></div>
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